


A Good and a Bad Side

by trustpants



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breaking Up & Making Up, Character Study, Hopeful Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Other, Parent Whizzer Brown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustpants/pseuds/trustpants
Summary: Trina smiled and believed, leaving Whizzer to wonder just how desperate you had to be to pretend your husband wasn’t cheating on you with the guy he’d brought home for dinner.Still, he didn’t say anything.
Relationships: Jason & Whizzer Brown, Whizzer Brown & Trina, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	A Good and a Bad Side

**Author's Note:**

> CW for use of the q slur. If you were fine with it in the musical then it probably won’t bother you.

If there was one thing Whizzer Brown was good at, it was keeping secrets.

He had to be, of course, growing up as a closeted kid with homophobic parents. After leaving home for New York he’d changed some—there was no point pretending not to be queer when you spent every other night in gay bars, after all—but not in the ways that mattered.

He kept his distance from the men he screwed, and he kept any friends he’d accrued over the years at arm’s-length. If they were useful they got to stay, and if they weren’t, he cut them loose. Whizzer wasn’t the type to offer something for nothing.

He knew now, probably always had, that it had been a mistake to see Marvin more than once. And despite what Marvin thought, Whizzer wasn’t stupid. Marvin was everything he should be avoiding—a smarmy, irritating, repressed closet case with a wife and kid waiting back home.

But Marvin was also decently wealthy and surprisingly good in bed, for someone who’d never been with a man before. He liked to rile Whizzer up before the fact, pulling his hair and gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks, which Whizzer found himself brushing over absentmindedly during the day. More than that, though, Marvin seemed to enjoy Whizzer’s company. During quiet moments he would stare up at Whizzer with his big blue eyes in wonder, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Somehow, spending time with Marvin wasn’t a chore, was  _ invigorating _ —he thrilled Whizzer in a way few things seemed to anymore.

Maybe that was why he’d agreed to Marvin’s stupid idea.

“This is my friend Whizzer Brown,” Marvin said the first time he needled Whizzer into visiting his home.

It was a monumentally bad idea, to speak to—no, to even  _ think about _ —your lover’s wife and child, both of whom were unaware of Marvin’s infidelity. But then, Whizzer never pretended to be a good man.

He was manipulative, petty, cruel and queer, on top of it all. He wasn’t so self-deluded that he expected anything but scorn from Marvin’s family once they found out he was fucking Whizzer. And they  _ would _ find out if Marvin’s complete lack of subtlety was any indication.

Just not tonight. No, tonight they were still a happy family, with an unexpected guest over to excite their otherwise boring week. Trina invited him to stay for dinner, and before he could decline, Marvin had given him those eyes, so Whizzer stayed.  _ Just this once, Marvin, really, _ he’d insist later. What a joke.

They sat down to a dinner Trina had slaved over for god-knows how long. He sat beside their son Jason, with Marvin at the head and his wife on his right.

Trina was plain but pretty, well-manicured and nicely dressed even on a weeknight. She stared at Whizzer out of the corner of her eye when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. After he caught her gaze, her smile was tense and plastic, but so was his. Whizzer tried not to hold it against her and failed.

Jason was just as Marvin had described him—quiet, only piping up occasionally, but never saying anything he didn’t mean. He was reserved when his parents asked him probing questions about school, but he cracked a smile when Whizzer offered him a commiserating look. He seemed intrigued by the man his father brought home. Whizzer got the feeling they didn’t have guests often.

That feeling solidified further when Trina asked him, politely, so politely, how he and Marvin knew each other. There was something approaching suspicion in her eyes, but it was quickly dulled when Marvin offered up his half-baked explanations.

Trina smiled and believed, leaving Whizzer to wonder just how desperate you had to be to pretend your husband wasn’t cheating on you with the guy he’d brought home for dinner.

Still, he didn’t say anything.

***

Whizzer and Jason were quiet, the room filled with Marvin and Trina’s muffled arguing from the kitchen. Trina had glared at him over dinner—a dinner he didn’t even want to make, mind you—and Marvin had reprimanded him like he was a child before turning his ire back to his ex-wife.

Every week Jason finished his food, even as he complained about Whizzer burning it again—which was more than could be said for Marvin, who didn’t even bother cleaning his plate anymore. Whizzer found himself insulted and trying not to be—after all, it wasn’t as if he should care. He wasn’t Marvin’s wife; he only cooked because he was tired of Marvin throwing fits.  _ It was easier to stay with Marvin, _ he told himself, day after day, even when it proved not to be true.

When Jason left for the relative privacy of his room, Whizzer followed on quiet feet, lest Marvin hear him and drag him into their argument. Jason was already sitting at his table, setting up a chess game.

Whizzer sat at the edge of his bed, watching as Jason began playing against himself, flipping the board between moves. The sight of it made Whizzer unaccountably sad.

“Do you always play by yourself?” he asked.

“Mom hates playing games and Marvin hates losing them,” Jason said. “It’s easier this way.”

“What about at school, then?”

Jason scoffed. “The kids there don’t know anything. And they all suck at chess.”

“So do I,” Whizzer pointed out.

“Whatever. You’re good at other stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like…baseball,” Jason said. “And pattern matching.”

Whizzer let out a surprised laugh. “Maybe some kid at school is good at that, too. Or, uh—”

The dulled sound of plates clattering cut through the room, loud in spite of the door between them and Marvin. He was angry, obviously, still yelling—but it wasn’t so bad, really. He wouldn’t go any farther than yelling and throwing his weight around—calling Whizzer a whore and Trina a bitch and making Jason cry when none of them were watching. Whizzer had to keep telling himself Marvin wouldn’t go any farther than he already had.

“Is he better when it’s just you two?” Jason asked tentatively.

The following silence was broken only by the clicking of Jason’s chess pieces.  _ Was he?  _ It was starting to feel more and more like Whizzer was just a replacement wife. Though, Whizzer was certain Marvin and Trina’s arguments had never ended in vicious, animalistic sex—just cold silence and pointed glares that festered until a temporary truce while they slept.

None of this was appropriate to tell Jason, of course. Whizzer didn’t know what about his relationship with Marvin  _ would _ be considered appropriate, though. When they weren’t fucking, they were fighting, and Jason had had enough fighting to last him a lifetime. But still, there were good moments, moments when Marvin was almost…

“He’s sweet,” Whizzer finally said. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but Jason narrowed his eyes in suspicion anyway.

“Sweet,” he repeated incredulously. Whizzer laughed.

“Okay,” he conceded, “Maybe not all the time. But he has his moments.”

Jason was quiet again, chewing on his lip in thought. “He yells at you, too,” Jason said. “I heard him before dinner, calling you…” He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think I should say it.”

Whizzer’d known, logically, that everyone could hear what Marvin had said to him. Having it confirmed still made him feel sort of pathetic. How stupid he must have seemed, only putting up token protests to Marvin’s verbal steamrolling, before sitting back and taking it in silence. Whizzer couldn’t think of anything to say after a while that Marvin wouldn’t have had an immediate response for, and he’d had a long day at work. Sometimes it was just easier not to start a fight with Marvin, no matter how much he wanted to.

Sometimes he didn’t even want to fight. He thought Marvin didn’t either.

Whizzer’s silence must’ve been a good enough answer for Jason, who continued, “Why do you stay with him?”

“Why did your mother?” Whizzer shot back. It was cruel, and Jason didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t take it back. Jason looked down at the chess board, away from Whizzer.

“She loves him.” Jason moved a piece. “Loved him. Do you love him?”

“Do you?”

Jason’s hand hovered in midair, indecisive, over the king. He let his hand fall into his lap. “He’s my father.”

“I don’t love my father.” It was the wrong thing to say, certainly. Whizzer said it anyway. Jason looked up.

“Why not?”

“Some people aren’t worth the trouble, Jason.”

Jason looked back down at the board. “Do you think dad is?”

“Jesus, kid, I don’t know. You’re a little young to be without parents, though.” Whizzer sighed and resisted the urge to rub at his forehead. This conversation wasn’t helping his headache any. “Younger than I was, even.”

“I think I’d manage okay.” He moved his hand to a bishop instead, and continued the game as though there’d been no break.

“I think you’re full of shit.” This managed to get a smile from Jason, brief as it was.

“He ruins everything.” Jason frowned and flipped the board again. “They both do.”

“They’re not trying to make you miserable.”

“What does it matter, if I’m miserable anyway?” Whizzer didn’t really have an answer for that. He didn’t know what to tell a child born into an unhappy family, or what to tell his parents to make them happy again. If he knew how to do that he never would’ve left home, himself.

Whizzer sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “This would be a lot easier,” he found himself saying, “If you’d just listen to your mother and let me be the bad guy.”

Jason looked up at that. “If you were a bad guy you wouldn’t care how I felt.”

It wasn’t really as simple as that, but maybe it could be, for a precious few minutes until he and Marvin disappeared for another few days.

It wasn’t long before Marvin opened the door without knocking, Whizzer standing to leave without having to be told. He said goodbye to Jason, ruffled his hair, and ignored the envy in Marvin’s eyes when Jason didn’t duck away from his hand.

Trina didn’t see them out, though she rarely bothered anymore. She was probably drunk again.

Whizzer stared silently out the window as Marvin drove them back to the apartment. Marvin tapped his fingers against the wheel. This was one of those times when he couldn’t seem to help showing his hand. That’d always been Marvin’s biggest flaw, in Whizzer’s opinion. He didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

They were at a stoplight when he finally broke. “What were you and Jason talking about, anyway?”

_ You, _ Whizzer thought.

“Nothing important,” Whizzer said, not turning to face him.

***

Whizzer scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed—scrubbed so hard he feared the dishes would wear down to nothing in his hands. He hated Trina’s stupid glass casserole dishes, how they made him feel like he was a second away from wrecking something irreparably.

He hated Trina for the same reason.

She wasn’t drunk tonight, thank God—or the psychiatrist, maybe, for keeping her from the drink for one night of her life—but she was as brittle as ever, seemingly perpetually on the verge of a breakdown. Maybe it was cruel to judge her like he did, but she’d been like this even before she’d known Marvin was cheating on her. She and Marvin had both been on the edge of complete collapse for who knows how long before Whizzer took a wrecking ball to their marriage.

It wasn’t his fault Marvin was gay though, or that Marvin was a cheater, or that both of them were nutcases.

He handed the dish to Trina to dry. He was halfway through the next when she broke their silence. “I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

“Oh, don’t get all high-and-mighty now, Trina,” Whizzer scoffed. “You’re not exactly a saint, yourself.”

She set down the dish with a thud. “You’re so damn self-absorbed you don’t even see what you’ve done. It’s  _ your _ fault Marvin left us to begin with.”

“Marvin was going to leave no matter who he was screwing.”

“Don’t you even care what you’re doing to Jason?” she tried. As much as he hated her, he loved Jason, and Trina knew that. “You took his father away, and he still loves you. How can he even  _ stand _ you?”

Whizzer wasn’t sure about that one, himself. Maybe it was because he’d been the only one to really discuss the divorce with Jason in anything close to honest terms. Maybe it was their mutual love for baseball, or their mutual love for Marvin. Maybe the kid was just a bad judge of character.

Whizzer settled on, “Probably because I actually listen to him.” Trina stared at him with open contempt.

“You just have to take everything from me, don’t you?” she said, a disbelieving laugh startling its way out of her throat.

The first time Whizzer had made Jason laugh, Marvin and Trina had both looked at him with something like wonder—and hidden under that, jealousy. Whizzer—handsome, sweet, cheating Whizzer—had Jason charmed the first time they’d met, and almost completely ignoring his parents by the second. It wasn’t fair, he knew.

But Whizzer didn’t play fair.

“Sometimes I’m selfish,” Whizzer said to Trina now, when the silence had gone on too long again. “Just like you are.” He met her eyes. “Just like Marvin is.”

“It’s more than just ‘sometimes’ with you two,” Trina scoffed. Her gaze dropped to the clean dish in her hands. She never could hold eye contact with him for long, even before the divorce. He wondered, even now, how much she’d really suspected back then—or rather, how much she’d let herself suspect. Maybe Trina could’ve lived the rest of her life with the wool pulled over her eyes.

“I didn’t do any of this to hurt you,” he confessed, so quiet he feared—hoped—she didn’t hear him over the clattering of dishes in the sink. Her expression told him his hopes went unanswered.

“You’ve never done an unselfish thing in your life, Whizzer Brown,” she spat. “Don’t start now.” Whizzer scrubbed harder at Trina’s stupid dishes.

He kept his mouth shut.

***

Two years after Whizzer left Marvin’s family behind, he got a call at 10:14 pm on a Saturday. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. He didn’t have anything better to do.

“Hello?…Hello?” Silence. He sighed and moved to hang up, when a voice finally came through the line.

“Hi, Whizzer,” the voice said, slightly deeper than it had been the last time he’d heard it, but unmistakable in its familiarity. 

“Jason?” Whizzer hadn’t spoken to him in a few months now, not since he’d moved to this apartment. Jason sounded different—happier. “How’d you get my number?”

“You’re in the phone book,” he said. “There’s only so many guys named Whizzer Brown, you know.”

“Your number’s different.”

“I’m calling from dad’s place.”

Whizzer swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “Oh, right. How’s he doing?”

“He’s better,” Jason said. “We went to the aquarium this weekend.”

“Good. That’s good,” Whizzer said. He felt so stupid.

“He’s visiting the neighbors right now.” Whizzer was ashamed to admit his shoulders relaxed hearing that. “I don’t think I’m supposed to call you,” Jason added, but he didn’t sound particularly put out about it. Whizzer couldn’t really blame him, with the way his parents acted. Mendel was a try-hard and Trina could be overbearing, both of them were neurotic disasters. And Marvin—well.

“What do your parents know, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Jason groaned. “All they care about is this stupid Bar Mitzvah. They fight every time mom comes to pick me up, even if Mendel tells them to stop.” Whizzer snickered. Asking a guy like Mendel to get Trina and Marvin to quit fighting was like asking a rabbit to get between a lion and a bear.

“He’s too much of a pushover.”

Jason sighed. “You’re telling me.”

“It’ll blow over eventually,” Whizzer reassured. “My parents used to fight over stuff like that all the time.”

“Is that why you left?”

“I guess that was part of it. I mean, they’d fight so much they forgot what they were even fighting about.”

“That’d be good. That way I won’t have to deal with this stupid Bar Mitzvah.”

“Do you even want to have a Bar Mitzvah, Jason?”

“I don’t know.” Jason paused. “Not like this, with everyone fighting the whole time. It’s like it’s not even about me, anymore.” Whizzer opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Jason said, “That’s not why I called, though. I’ve got a baseball game coming up.”

“You’re playing baseball?”

“Our first game is next Sunday. The team’s not very good,” he admitted.

“Oh, come on,” Whizzer teased, “You guys can’t be that bad.”

“Last week Johnny tripped over first base before he even swung,” Jason deadpanned.

“Well, I’m sure  _ you’ll _ do good, Jason,” Whizzer said. “You’re a smart kid. You remember what I told you, right?”

Baseball had been one of the few interests they’d had in common, and had ultimately been the thing to get him back in Jason’s good graces after his parents’ divorce. They still met up sometimes for catch, or batting practice—typically with Mendel’s supervision, and the understanding that no one would mention it to Marvin or Trina.

“Head in the box, eye on the ball,” Jason repeated dutifully.

He smiled, even though Jason couldn’t see it. “Attaboy.”

The conversation shifted onto safer topics, but it wasn’t long before they reached a lull. There were only so many questions Whizzer could ask before Jason was struggling not to mention Marvin.

“Are you gonna come?” Jason asked after a while.

“I might,” Whizzer said noncommittally. “Maybe I’ll even crash your Bar Mitzvah if you have one.”

“Not fair,” Jason complained.

“What?”

“Trying to trick me into a Bar Mitzvah with bribery.”

Whizzer was quietly flattered that Jason considered his presence good enough for bribery. “Wouldn’t you kill to see your mother’s face when I show up in my flashiest suit?”

“You have a dozen of those,” Jason said, smiling audibly.

“Very funny. But I meant the purple one,” Whizzer added, just to hear Jason laugh again. His laugh petered off into silence.

“Whizzer,” Jason started nervously.

“Yeah, kid?”

Some shuffling, and then silence again. Whizzer thought maybe Jason had hung up, when his voice came through—tinny and so quiet Whizzer could barely make it out.

“Will you really come?”

Whizzer felt nauseous. “Yeah, Jason,” he said, because Whizzer couldn’t say no to him, even now, “I’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone. He penciled Jason’s baseball game in on his calendar.

No backing out.

***

Whizzer showed up halfway through the game because he’d gotten up late—not because of nerves, he wasn’t  _ nervous _ —but he was just in time for Jason to bat again. His form, though—this kid was going to kill him. Whizzer sighed and took off his sunglasses.

He heard Trina before he saw her. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, and Whizzer just raised a brow.

“Jason asked me to come,” he said, finding himself irritated by her hostility. He’d shown up to a baseball game, not fucked her husband.  _ Well, _ he thought a little guiltily,  _ not this time. _

Whizzer spotted Marvin in the row behind Trina and Mendel, cowering behind an amused looking Charlotte and staring at Whizzer like he couldn’t believe this was really happening. Whizzer felt pride stirring in his chest that he could still make Marvin look like that—he certainly hadn’t dressed to impress him, he just  _ happened _ to be wearing Marvin’s favorite shade of pink, really.

Mendel and Trina were whispering about him, and Whizzer was saying hello to Charlotte and Cordelia, and Marvin just kept  _ staring _ at him. Whizzer was struggling to remind himself of all Marvin’s faults, all the reasons they didn’t work out in the first place.

He was a petty, controlling, asshole with an awful temper. He’d kicked Whizzer out. He’d  _ hit Trina. _ Marvin was a bad idea waiting to happen.

Still, he seemed different, somehow. Softer around the edges, if a little more desperate. And he’d come to Jason’s game, even though Whizzer knew Marvin hated baseball with a passion.

Whizzer caught sight of a truly spectacular whiff out of the corner of his eye. “Head in the box, kid!” he shouted from the stands, earning him a startled jump from the family around him, and a bewildered grin from Jason. Whizzer smiled and settled back in his seat.

Marvin stared at him with soft eyes, teased him the same way he used to on their good days—when neither of them could remember why they fought so much to begin with. Marvin was sweet, and handsome, and irritating the hell out of him.

And God, Whizzer wanted him.

“Could I give you a call?” Marvin asked, and Whizzer felt his reservation melt away at the hope in his eyes. He gave Marvin his number before he could chicken out.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned, because a large part of him was still wary to let Marvin back in—to show him anything but cold indifference.

He felt gutted, knocked off balance. For the second time in his life, Whizzer’s feelings for Marvin had taken him by surprise. Marvin smiled like he could tell what Whizzer was thinking.

Like he was thinking it, too.

***

He’d suggested racquetball partially as a joke, partially as a punishment. It left Marvin sweaty and exhausted, just like he’d expected—another way to make Marvin pay for what he’d put Whizzer through. But Marvin took it in stride, only complaining a little when Whizzer inevitably beat him. He was competitive still, sure, but the idea of losing didn’t piss him off the way it used to. Now he just offered to buy Whizzer lunch, or indulge him in well-earned victory sex.

It was nice. Too nice, maybe, but Whizzer wasn’t complaining. He liked this new Marvin as much as he’d liked the old one, only this time he didn’t get burned for it.

“When did you become such a pain in the ass?” Marvin griped, unable to keep the grin from his face. Whizzer tipped his head back and laughed.

“You knew what you were getting into,” he said, reaching down to offer Marvin a hand up. He took it, sweaty palm meeting Whizzer’s. Anyone else and he’d have been grossed out, but with Marvin it was…sort of nice. “Seriously, Marvin, did you think I’d go easy on you this time?”

Marvin laughed, couldn’t seem to help it. “Of course not. You never do.”

Whizzer held him close, ignoring the heat radiating off both their bodies from the exercise. “One more round?”

“No, no way,” Marvin groaned. “One more round and you’ll have to carry me out of here.”

Whizzer laughed, and squeezed Marvin’s ass. “I think that can be arranged. Come on, Marvin, just one. For me?”

“You’re gonna kill me,” Marvin complained, but he complied, pulling away from Whizzer to grab his forgotten racquet. When he bent down to get it, he caught Whizzer staring. “Like what you see?” Marvin teased.

Whizzer did. He really, really did. And it was more than just wanting to grab another handful of Marvin—though that was definitely still part of it. There was something about the little smile on Marvin’s face that filled him with immeasurable fondness. Whizzer had been having such a good time with him that he’d barely noticed the affection slowly creeping back in his heart. It was more than affection, really, beyond even what he’d felt the first time they’d been together. It felt like his heart was going to burst with how much he loved Marvin.

He grinned at Marvin from across the court. Maybe this was one thing he didn’t need to keep secret.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
